


Song of Kuekuatsheu

by DiamondScribe (DiamondSuits)



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: ALMOST Character Death, AU: God Logan, M/M, Post X-Men: First Class
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 05:44:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3558302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiamondSuits/pseuds/DiamondScribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles has a near death experience and Erik has an epiphany.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Song of Kuekuatsheu

For a man that had been surrounded by death for a majority of his life, Erik doubted he would ever get used to it. Maybe it had just stained him in his youth, maybe fate or some fickle god (not that he believed in such silly things anymore) had decided that he'd have such tragedies. Maybe it was all just his fault. 

It was hard not to feel that way when he was staring at his only friend. Charles. Wonderful Charles, who had raised him from the ashes and unlocked his true power, was unconscious in a hospital bed. Hooked up to all matter of machines, he laid there, looking so pale and small and fragile as doctors struggled to keep him alive. It was frightening to see him like that. The thought of the brilliant man never opening those big blue eyes of his again, never giving that bright smile or speaking with such enthusiasm made him ache and ache. When Erik had displaced Moira's bullet he had never imagined that it would hit Charles's heart. 

He should've been careful. He should've stuck with Charles. There were a million things he should've done to prevent the position his friend was in. With a harsh sigh, he continued with his pacing. His uselessness bothered him. It was a heavy weight on his chest, crushing his ribcage as he scrabbled fruitlessly to stop it. For a mutant as powerful as he was, he should be able to do something. He should be able to...

There was a sudden shift in the room. The temperature dropped a good ten degrees, and when he turned, there was a stranger there. 

Or perhaps the man was more familiar than he'd thought. 

He was dressed the same, red flannel over a white wifebeater, jeans, boots. His face was chiseled, and Erik just knew that when he looked he'd just get lost in those green eyes. One couldn't look into those eyes for long. 

"You," Erik snapped, his body wound up tight as a bowstring. While he was all tension and anger, the man gave off an eerie sort of calm. The other's stance was loose, relaxed as he stood all too close to Charles's bed. 

"Hey, Erik." That voice. Erik had never heard it before, but all the same it came with familiarity. Deep, quiet, smooth with barely perceptible resignation. It was enough to bring Erik's anger to a fever pitch. He stalked forward, teeth bared in a furious snarl. 

"Who are you?" he demanded, the metal in the room starting to rattle. "How do you know my name?" The stranger seemed not to be threatened by his actions, and that just pissed him off even more. 

The man raised his hand in a flippant gesture. "You know who I am, Erik." Images, unbidden, rose to Erik's mind. He'd seen the man so many times; first lingering outside of the barbed wire of his concentration camp, then in the confines itself, following around those that were overworked and starving and desperate. He'd seen him when he was looking for Shaw, lingering in the background as Erik blazed a trail of destruction across the world. And maybe, when he'd sent that accursed coin spinning through Shaw's head, he'd caught his reflection in a shard of a broken mirror. 

The man had always been there, watching, waiting as everyone around Erik died. 

And now Charles. 

"No." Erik tried to ignore the way his hands shook, glaring fiercely at the man. "Not Charles. He's fine."

The man just stared at him, an almost pitying look in his eyes. Erik couldn't take it. Overtaken by rage, he sharply gestured to the man, sending a scalpel flying through the air to bury itself in the man's head.

And nothing happened. The stranger casually pulled the instrument from his skull like it was a mere nuisance, leaving Erik to stare stupidly at his rapidly healing wound. Erik took a reflexive step back, suddenly cautious.

"You're one of us." 

The man shook his head at the accusation. 

"I'm something much older, Erik." When the mutant glanced into those eyes he suddenly flinched, getting a flash of century upon century of the worst, bloodiest ends imaginable. Thousands, millions of humans crying out under the weight of mortality. 

Whatever this man was, he wasn't human. 

"I don't care what you are. You'll get away from Charles right now." He stepped closer, as if there was a way to actually hurt the damn stranger. The man, whoever he was, just shook his head. 

"There's nothing you can do about this." He turned those odd eyes to Charles, who labored for every breath under those damn machines. Erik followed his gaze, trying his best to ignore the tight feeling in his chest, the burning in his eyes. Hopelessness. It was a feeling Erik should be used to by now. 

But he couldn't accept this. This was his best friend. 

"Don't." Erik shook his head, his voice coming the closest to begging it ever got. "Just... Don't. Charles is the last person who deserves this." 

Charles had hope. Even to the last, he still held on to that foolish belief that he could actually be helped. There was no saving a monster like himself, he knew that. But Charles... 

The stranger must have noticed the look on his face. His expression softened, but he ended up shaking his head. "You and I both know I can't do that. If I let one guy go, everyone is going to think they can break the rules too." 

Rules? Was he saying Charles's life was less important than some silly _rules_? Erik barely kept himself from doing something stupid, instead taking a deep breath and trying his only tactic. 

"Then take me instead." The surprised look the stranger gave him was enough encouragement to continue. "What's one life over another? You'll end up with the same tally at the end of the day. Names don't matter." Of course, there was the movement of their species to look after, but Charles could make strides for their cause even with his naivete (and perhaps Raven could even him out). Erik had been through too much, seen the death of so many loved ones. He couldn't take another. 

The man shook his head, clearly exasperated. "Wait, I can't just do that. You don't understand how the system works." 

"And why not? If you're as powerful as you claim to be, shouldn't you be calling the shots?" Growing bolder, Erik stepped closer and closer, glaring fiercely at the man. "Take me instead of Charles. It isn't hard." 

There was a beat or two of silence, then a frustrated sigh. "Look, I can't just..." Muttering to himself, the stranger rubbed his eyes, quiet for a moment longer before giving a sigh. "...I'm not supposed to do this," he began, eyes flicking up to Erik's. "But... I'll make an exception." 

Erik blinked. He hadn't actually expected the stranger to agree with him. Opening his mouth (either to thank him or make some wry comment, even he didn't know), he was silenced when the other continued. 

"But on one condition." Those eyes were stern when they met his. "Stop bein' a dick. I'm not going to step in like this for you every time, you understand?" 

Blinking, Erik forced himself to nod. There were all sorts of arguments he could make in reply to that, but he didn't want to jeopardize the life of his friend all over again. 

"I'll try."

Seemingly satisfied with that promise, the man gave a sharp nod as he stood. Reaching out, he waved his hand over Charles's prone body. Nothing seemed to happen.

But Erik knew better. Already some color was coming to Charles's cheeks, his breathing slowing, evening out. He'd make it. Thank god, Charles would make it. Erik rushed to his side, taking his pulse. It seemed... Regular. Regular and strong. 

He was so ecstatic that he hardly noticed when the man turned away. But notice he did, his eyes narrowed as he glanced up. "Who are you?" He finally asked. All these years, and he'd never gotten a name. 

Glancing back, the man considered him for a moment before giving a nod. "Name's Logan." Beyond that, he offered no explanation, just turning away. "See you around, Erik." 

With that, he vanished, leaving Erik alone in a hospital room with a telepath and his thoughts.

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite romantic yet, but I may add on to this if the writing bug hits again. First time writing Erik, so criticisms are appreciated!


End file.
